Stories of the Voiceless
by guyw1tn0nam3
Summary: A collection of short stories about Avatar's minor characters. Latest: June's growing old. Her body isn't what it used to. June confronts Piandao about this, and comes up with a proposal that she thought she'd never have to make.
1. Knife in the Wind

**A/N:** I'm in college now, so my fanfiction days are limited. These drabbles are all ideas that I wanted to turn into grand stories, but just won't have the time to. Hopefully one day I'll return to these short stories and turn them into something else. As you probably know from the summary, they will most (if not all) deal with minor characters exclusively.

Submitted for a contest on ASN.

**Summary:** Knife in the Wind - Not every Airbender was a pacifist. As she roams through a filthy Earth Kingdom slum, Avatar Yangchen demonstrates her own way of putting an end to conflicts.

**Genre:** Action

**Character(s)**: Yangchen

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><p><strong>Knife in the Wind<strong>

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><p><em>Many great and wise Air Nomads have detached themselves and achieved spiritual enlightenment, but the Avatar can never do it, for your sole duty is to the world. Here is my wisdom for you: selfless duty calls you to sacrifice your own spiritual needs, and do whatever it takes to protect the world.<em>_  
><em>  
>As she found herself pulled back into the misty void, her last words to the Avatar caused her to momentary recollect. It was an unintentional reflex, because Yangchen had no intention of remembering what type of Avatar she had been.<p>

She had been sixteen at the time. Her hair had grown loose and to her shoulders, much to the chagrin of the Air Temples that had deemed her a master just a year before.

Today, she wasn't wearing the wooden necklace with her people's symbol embedded upon it. Nor was she wearing the bright orange robes that designated her as the master of her element. In fact, her apparel was nothing more than a torn jacket covering an old grey robe, a sash wound around her waist, and a hood that only exposed the dark hair that poked out from the shadows and a pair of blue eyes that glanced about.

She was walking through the slums. She was on the outskirts on the Earth Kingdom, unregulated and unprotected by the Earth King. Nobody seemed to care of what seemed to be happening on the borders. Yangchen was told not to care, and that she was only to be worried about the icy cold pole that rested in the seas north of the kingdom.

The streets in the slum were littered with filth, trash, and mud. The houses around weren't any better. There was not a single window unbroken, the wooden frames were being chewed off by rampaging insects, and there was an eerie and unique odor pouring from each building. As she walked by another house, another bag of trash and waste was flung through a broken window and landed in the streets. The bag had been poorly tied and its contents spilled onto the feet of a few meandering bandits. Their faces turned from jeers and laughs into scowls as they pushed themselves into the house and began their incessant yelling.

Her teachings had taught her to not get involved, but she could not help but notice that her hand had already unconsciously reached into her robe. As she grasped over a wooden handle, Yangchen finally found enough strength to pull her hand away, and to continue walking. With the bellows from the bandits behind her becoming less than a whisper in her ear, Yangchen turned the corner into what she had assumed was a vacant alley.

Instead, a little girl looked back at her. She cowered at a dead end at the end of the alley. One eye pleaded at her for help. The other socket was completely empty. Her mouth was slightly open, as if she was in too much shock to talk and feel pain. In her hands were a tiny rag doll and a bag. Her vibrating body shook the bag, and the jingling sound told Yangchen that the girl was holding onto a small amount of money.

And eyeing the bag with their greedy faces was another batch of bandits. There were more than ten of them, and all of them were smiling as they extended their hand to the frightened girl, telling her that if only she gave them the bag, she would be okay. In the hands of the man in the middle of the pack was a knife. Its blade was stained with blood and it dripped onto the girl's hair. A trail of that blood flowed to two unidentifiable bodies and a displaced eye. Yangchen's eyes widened before narrowing into a vicious glare.

Yangchen didn't know what emotion was coursing through her body. Her master had found it wise to never teach her the emotions at all, so she had no word to describe what she was feeling. All she knew was that the filthy men in front of a poor fragile girl was causing her to feel this way, and her mind was telling her to get rid of them.

Her hand unconsciously into her robe, and this time Yangchen didn't resist.

She brandished a knife and in a single kick, her Airbending propelled her towards the thief in the middle. Yangchen slammed into him at full force, and her knife ripped through his stomach and slammed him into the stone wall behind him. The bandit's eyes flung wide open, his jaw fell open, and blood foamed at the man's agape mouth. His arm fell limp.

The others, suddenly realizing the intruder in their midst, ran towards her with their swords and curved daggers in hand. Yangchen turned back towards them, her light blue eyes clear even in the dim corridor. She flung the carcass out of her hands and took aim at the nearest villain in front of her. He was large and charged with his midsection easily exposed. As he raised an axe over him to cleave the Airbender in two, Yangchen merely flung her right arm upwards. The air surged around the knife as it cut the man's arm off. Blood fountained from the wound and a single kick to the chest was enough to send him spiraling into the wall, his neck cracked and the back of his head exposed.

As others converged on her, Yangchen was met with a flurry of swipes and jabs that came from all directions. One of them ripped her hood away and another cut open her jacket. Yangchen swung her body around to unleash a torrent of air that flung her opponents and her jacket aside, being careful not to hit the girl. Feeling more comfortable in just her robe, she dashed, grabbed a man by his collar, and swung him towards the closest foe. As the others recovered from the momentary shock, they charged again, thirsty for blood.

This time, Yangchen was more mobile and flexible. As they thrust their spears toward her, she snapped her wrists and twirled her knife in continuous arcs. The tips of those spears fell off and Yangchen took the opening to come closer. She darted in, her knife hand a flurry of movement. Hands and limbs were flung away, effectively dismembered from their owners. Some found that their chests suddenly burst open while others fell to the floor, missing their ankles.

One by one, her enemies fell in fits of pain. Their screams of pain warned bystanders away and were unheard by Yangchen. She stared at the last one among them, his eyes frightened. He must have felt trapped. He could only charge. She obliged, and in a swift motion, cut him in half.

The emotion that had overwhelmed her disappeared, and Yangchen stood in the midst of severed bodies and horrified looking bystanders. Yangchen and the girl, who stared back with confusion and fear, stared back at each other for a moment. Yangchen extended a hand, not expecting that the frightened girl placed her frail hands in the Airbender's and stared with the same eyes of plea.

In a swift motion, the knife was back in its sheath, and the Avatar led the girl away.

She would later be known as the Knife in the Wind. Some said that her knife was her way of saying that if blood had to be spilt then so be it. And so she was feared for most, not for her bending, but for the knife that always was hidden underneath her robes.

But Yangchen would only say that it suited her taste.


	2. A Road Lit by Lanterns and Strangers

**A/N:** So I was buying some street food in New York while listening to Joe Hisaishi's piece "Procession of the Gods" from Spirited Away, and I thought of this story. I would've liked to make this a multi-chapter fic, but I think a one shot should be able to convey the necessary emotions…albeit a rather long one shot.

**Summary:** Grieving the loss of his son, Iroh journeys to the Spirit World, intending to meet the Spirit of Life and Death and demand the life of his son. What he receives is quite different.

**Genre:** Spiritual/Adventure

**Character(s)**: Iroh

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><p><strong>A Road Lit by Lanterns and Strangers<strong>

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><p>Iroh's eyes flung open. In front of him was a road lit by red lanterns hung from wooden poles.<p>

A white fog hung over the ground, small flashing orbs of light darting in and out of the mist. Everything outside of the road was obscured by a dark veil, with the lanterns pointing down a long winding path up that led up a mountain. At its peak was a golden palace with bright red columns seating atop the mountain and shimmering tiles that covered the roof.

The Fire Nation general paused for a moment, rubbing his head in confusion. His memories eluded him, but he knew for certain that he couldn't possibly be alone.

He looked up, trying to remember where he was, but only found himself more confused at the sight of the sky. What he thought would be the same star filled view he had seen every day for the last year had been replaced by a flurry of fluorescent colors. The sky was covered in auroras that swirled together along with dozens of flying comets as they danced about the sky. The stars sitting in the sky seemed unnatural, as they were vibrating rapidly as if excited. Iroh could have also sworn to hear distinct laughs emanating from each of the bright dots.

It was at that point in time that strange creatures emerged from the darkness surrounding the road. They phased into existence, moving from the darkness into the light, as if the road and the darkness were two different worlds. Iroh quickly ducked beneath the haze to cover himself from the new arrivals. He poked his head out to catch a look at them.

There was a panda bear, bearing various grains and crops in his mouth. He let out a majestic roar and continued on his way. He was followed by a large owl, a large eelhound, a small sky bison, a wolf with the tail of a dragon. One by one, hundreds of these spirits stood on the road. They greeted each other in strange gestures, animal like howls, and the occasional human tongue. The world that Iroh knew had been inverted, skewed, mashed together and thrown out of proportion. Iroh himself stood underneath a floating komodo rhino, whose wings were distinctly familiar to that of a flying boar.

He didn't want to move, as he was frozen by the sight. His eyes widened as if in awe, and his shoulders shook with the fear that he had taught his soldiers never to feel. The creatures that he had just seen grouped together to form a line that seemed to stretch for miles. Their banter was quieter now, and their words more of a whisper, as if they were scared of a listener, or were just waiting for something to happen.

The globes of light tracing the mist around Iroh now suddenly streamed out of the fog. They left behind trails of vapor as they surrounded the arrivals on the road. A blinding light caused Iroh to look down at the fog and cover his eyes. There was a strange heat emanating from the orbs that had left the cloud, and all that Iroh could do was to look away and listen as cheers of delight filled the air.

When the lights had subsided, Iroh looked back up to see that the orbs had vanished. In their place were beautiful women, clothed in pure white gowns as each one of them took a stand underneath a lantern. The dots in the sky had also vanished, replaced by spirits with the faces of men flying over the road. The baskets they carried were filled with flowers of every kind, even ones that Iroh had not yet seen. They fell from the sky, and a beautiful aroma entered Iroh's nose.

It was now that the line of spirits began to move. The women each took a lantern in their hands and began proceeding towards the golden palace in the distance. A massive gate with what Iroh would call a Pai Sho tile embedded at its center swung open. One by one, lanterns entered the palace, followed by their spirit accomplices. The road behind Iroh grew darker as the line moved towards the palace, which told the Fire Nation general that it was time to start moving.

A gentle hand pressed against Iroh's back. The general tensed up and a chill shot down his back. However, the touch felt so foreign yet so warm and reassuring that Iroh found himself almost relaxed as he turned to look at the one who found him ducking in the fog.

She wore a green dress down to her ankles, and Iroh noticed that her bare feet were levitating above the mist. She had long brown hair that wrapped around her slender frame and hazel eyes that stared, amused at Iroh's reaction. Her small lips were curved in a smile. Her entire body was surrounded by flowers and rocks as they spiraled around her as if she was the center of the earth. Iroh wondered what type of spirit she was.

The spirit offered her hand, which Iroh, against his own intuition, took into his own. Dragging him out of his cover, she smiled and wrapped her two arms around his right arm. She then moved her hand down Iroh's face, , before nodding towards the palace. A strange feeling fell over Iroh. The air around him grew warm and a fragrant scent different to the flowers from before now surrounded him. He assumed the spirit had conjured a spell.

Together they joined the spirits and marched. On the way, many looked at the woman escorting Iroh, nodding approvingly and bowing deeply with great respect. "Every year she travels amongst us. It may a blessing or a curse to see her," many of them said. No one ever gave attention to Iroh. It was if he wasn't there at all.

He wanted to say something to her. Who was she? What was everyone here for? She stayed quiet, however, only nodding to those who paid attention to her. Her lips never opened, her eyes never wavered from the palace in front of them. She must have been telling Iroh to stay quiet too.

They reached the foot of the palace, and Iroh climbed the giant steps up to the door. The Pai Sho tile that served as a crest on the door was now fully visible, and Iroh recognized it as a White Lotus piece, perhaps the most worthless of all pieces in the game. Iroh found it ironic, but refrained from chuckling.

The two entered the palace. Iroh expected it to be as grand as it was on the outside. Columns surging from the floor decorated in majestic carvings, paintings, and decorations. A hallway of gold and precious treasures. Hundreds of doors to house servants, spirits, and honorable guests.

Instead, there was only an alter at the middle of a large room, its floors plated with tiles with different animals crested on each. At each side of this rectangular plaza were seats housing the spirits that had arrived, each seat seemingly specialized for their guests. A giant eel bobbed his head from a pool of warm water as he bathed. The giant panda, who had left the grains and crops at the alter found himself seated in a bamboo throne. The owl perched on a roost near the top of the seats. One by one, the spirits left their offerings at the massive alter, before finding their designated seats.

It was now that Iroh realized that he was the last one in the line. The room was a cacophony of sounds, and Iroh found himself standing with the woman at his side in front of the altar. The spirit beside him smiled, her eyes curious as to what Iroh intended to offer. She let go of him finally and watched as he tried to decide. Desperate, Iroh reached into his pocket to see if he could give anything other than his clothes.

He pulled out a top knot. The hair flopped lifelessly in front of Iroh's eyes, and Iroh suddenly realized why he was here.

Placing the hair on the altar, Iroh bowed quickly and knelt on his knees.

_I wish for the life of my son_, Iroh thought.

The spirit who had watched over him closed her eyes, and nodded in approval.

"You have a good heart," her voice was soft, but filled with sympathy and concern. "But I'm afraid you are misguided."

Turning to look at her, Iroh watched as the woman floated over to the altar. The room grew silent as she rose higher and higher into the air. She raised her arm, and the offerings upon the altar floated towards her. Just like the flowers and pieces of earth that gravitated towards her, cups of wine, books, crops, everything spun around her as if she truly was the center of the world.

The objects floated around her for another moment, before all burning away in a flash. A bright green flame wrapped each individual object as they withered away from the contact of this fire. Their ashes then separated. Some of them floated upwards, finding themselves settling as white stars in the heavens. Others became spheres that burned brightly for all to enjoy.

"What is happening?" Iroh whispered, confused and almost angry, looking at the spirit floating above. "Did I not ask the Spirit of Life and Death to return my son to me?"

"No, you did not," she replied, and floated towards him. It was only now that the warm sensation surrounding Iroh vanished, and the spirits in the room became aware of his presence. Some of them jumped and exclaimed "How did a human come here?" while others sat still, unsurprised but still contemplating the meaning of Iroh's appearance.

"I do not control life and death," she said. "Life and death is a struggle of preservation. In life we preserve the memories of our existence, and in death they are lost if never passed on. Therefore, I am the vault of memories. The spirit of life and death, who preserves the memory of those who die, and relish in the memory of those who still walk the earth."

"I have received many memories today," she smiled again and tapped Iroh's forehead. A cold sensation now surrounded Iroh, and his body felt a jerk and a tug from something foreign. "I have received the painful memories of someone who has found his library devastated, the memories of a man and his drunken stupor, the memories of a successful harvest."

"But perhaps the best memory I received today," she kissed Iroh on the forehead. The tug was more powerful than ever before, and Iroh realized that all was hopeless. The only comfort was now the last words of the Spirit of Life and Death, who imparted on him words that he would treasure forever.

"Are the memories of a son, and the father he treasured more than anyone else in the world."

Iroh's eyes flashed open. In front of him was a portrait of Lu Ten, lit by a lantern with a red light.

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><p><strong>AN: **Tell me what you guys think!


	3. The Ferry Fish

**A/N:** Written for ASN's drabble contest.

**Summary:** After having been thrown off of Zhao's boat, Hahn finds himself floating in a dark ocean in the middle of nowhere. Soon, he discovers that the dark surfaces of the water are more than they appear.

**Genre:** Spiritual

**Character(s)**: Hahn

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><p><strong>The Ferry Fish<strong>

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><p>Hahn's eyes flashed open. Immediately an unshakable daze swept over his body. His head spun, his arms and legs refused to budge, his back ached at the wooden planks underneath him. When Hahn tried to clench his fist and roll over, his hand stung with the intensity of a thousand needles pricking his skin, and his torso seemed frozen in place. Finding no way to place himself upright, Hahn resigned to lying supine and hoping this feeling of immobility would leave soon.<p>

In only a few more seconds, the awkward sensation in his fingers was starting to subside, and Hahn's mind was no longer throbbing. He listened. From the rocking of the floor boards and the splashing of water around him, Hahn could tell that he was lying on a boat. The craft must have been incredibly small, not even enough to fit a teenage boy of Hahn's figure.

There was almost no sound other than the soft clash of water and wood. It was a clear night, but unlike all the other nights that Hahn had spent in the Northern Water Tribe, this was the first night without a single hint of a star. Only the moon hung above him. It seemed abnormally large, drawn too close to the earth, misplaced in the vast sky. There were no blocks of ice that characterized the tundra of his homeland, no clear breeze that passed through the north this time of year, no Fire Nation ships that Hahn remembered had been floating on his doorstep.

His strength returned, and Hahn attempted to sit up, scraping his arms on the confined corners of the boat as he pulled himself up. There was a wince of pain, but when Hahn pulled his arm to his face to inspect for blood or splinters, there was no indication that his arm had ever been scratched. He quickly felt around the boat for any of his belongings but found nothing.

In fact, when Hahn looked up, there was nothing but his boat and an empty ocean. The moonlight sky revealed everything and nothing, an endless sea whose pitch black hue seemed almost too dark to be water. Nothing moved beneath, no ripples that signaled life below. There didn't even appear to be a current that pushed Hahn's boat towards an unknown destination. The surface of water was dead still like a sheet of glass, only parting when Hahn's boat, which was miraculously moving out of a will of its own, sloshed through slowly.

_Where am I_ wasn't the appropriate question to ask himself, because Hahn already knew that he was lost. The question that struck him rather, was _why am I here_?

His boat stopped. It was a sudden lurch, so fast that Hahn had to grab ahold of the wooden railing to keep himself from being tossed over and leverage his weight with his back feet to keep the boat from capsizing. When Hahn looked over the boat to see why he had stopped, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open in the quietest of gasps.

A gigantic waterfall, stretching as wide as the ocean itself, revealed itself under the moonlight. It was the largest landmark Hahn had ever laid his eyes upon, but that wasn't what stunned him the most.

The waterfall made no sound, no loud roar of water smashing against the pit below. The fall was held in suspension, as if this ocean had been folded at an angle and the water refused to follow the rules of gravity. The watery precipice fell for what must have an entire mile, and at the bottom was nothing more than a continuation of the endless ocean at the top of the falls. Hahn's boat rested at the edge, and Hahn suspected that the boat had stopped because it knew exactly where it wanted to stop.

A flash of light drew Hahn's attention to the waters behind him, and for the time since waking up, he saw something floating above the water. An orb of light could be seen in the distance, followed by another, and another, and another. They faded into existence, with no indication of where they came from. As they drew closer, Hahn noticed that the lights were lanterns fixed to the front of boats very similar to the small craft that he was sitting in.

One by one, these boats passed by Hahn, and on them were faces of people that he knew.

"Koru?" Hahn whispered, seeing the face of the first man. He was Hahn's right hand man in the operation to assassinate Admiral Zhou. More faces passed, all of them his former comrades, dressed in the robes of Water Tribe warriors. "Jian? Yang? Shuei? Where are all of you going? Why are we here?"

They all ignored him. As they passed, Hahn took a careful look at each one of them. The spheres of light cast a pure white light over their bodies. Their blue and white Water Tribe clothes were easily distinguishable, but the colors of their skin had become greyed and devoid of all animated colors. It was as if the lanterns themselves had been the colors of their bodies before the color had been forcibly taken from them. Hahn was horrified to see their colorless expressions as they passed, shocked to see that the only thing that made them recognizable was the black outline of their bodies.

These boats did not stop at the waterfall like Hahn's had, and instead they began a long winding trip down the fall.

"Warriors!" Hahn called after them. "What are you doing? Don't we still have a mission to attend to?"

_This is the last mission you will ever see them take._

That was the thought that flooded his mind, and it was then that Hahn became very aware of something swimming in the water. From the deep dark waters, it couldn't be seen, smelled, heard, or touched, but it was a feeling, a connection that Hahn suddenly felt with something in the water that had forced that thought in his head. Hahn leaned over the edge of the boat to see if he could see anything, but to no avail.

The strange aura that Hahn had felt followed the boats of his comrades down the waterfall and swirled around them as they continued to go. They became identifiable only by the lanterns that hung on the deck of their boats and the thick dark outlines of their grey ink bodies. The first of the boats reached the bottom of the cliff in a matter of minutes and continued to drift onwards.

When the last of the boats had reached the bottom, Hahn noticed that the dark veil covering the water was slowly peeling away. In its place was the glowing trace of a gigantic coy fish, swirling around the twenty or so ships that had made it to the bottom of the waterfall. As it went around the boats, it left behind a clear amber trail that formed a perfect circle that encompassed the area that the boats had been drifting in.

One by one, the boats began to take in water and sink. Hahn gasped. "What is going on!" he shouted frantically, trying to move his boat closer towards his comrades. Without an oar he pushed his hand into the water, only to feel a sticky substance on the surface of the water cling to his hand as he tried to row the boat down the fall. As he pulled his hand out from the ocean, he examined the black fluid in his hands.

"Ink?"

The boats sank below the water line, and the ink that traced the surface of the ocean fell into the boats' interiors. Immediately, Hahn found himself shocked to see his comrades instantly melt at the contact with the water. Their features slowly withered away, their grey colored skin crumbling like paper in water, their dark outlines mixing with the ink that poured into the boats. The boats sank further, and the lanterns soon touched the surface of the water.

The paper holding the lanterns in slowly folded and broke as well, and the lights inside each lantern gave off a near blinding glare. It was a white light, different from the golden glow that the coy fish beneath the boats had etched into its skin.

From every which direction, the dark hue covering the water pulled towards the circle formed by the golden coy fish. The white orbs of light that had illuminated the boats also joined in the circle, swirling around the darkness until they glowed brightly on one half of the circle.

"What is this?" Hahn whispered.

_Humans are the toothbrush I use to paint the world. When they wither away and die, I clean the brush and wash out the color that I put in them._

The lights shined for hours after and the darkness contrasting it the most bottomless darkness that Hahn could ever imagine. The colors of his comrades burned stronger and brighter than Hahn would have believed in life, and bottomless pit proved the depth of their existence that Hahn had never acknowledged.

When Hahn was found the next morning, they said he cried for hours, calling out the names of his comrades, and begged for a coy god to show how brightly he would have shined.


	4. Goodbye Sifu Hotman

**Summary:** On Ji's teacher takes a leave of absence. Her substitute is not your normal teacher.

**Genre:** Humor

**Character(s)**: On Ji

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><p><strong>Goodbye Sifu Hotman<strong>

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><p>I was only living a calm and relaxing grade school life as the rest of the world dissolved into an epic struggle for global dominance and survival.<p>

Nothing interesting or out of the ordinary seemed to happen, nor did I wish for anything out of ordinary or interesting to happen.

Then there was an incident at my school, which rested on one of the outer islands of the Fire Nation. It was back when my days at Ba Sing Se University were long away, when the Fire Nation still waged its war of attrition with the Earth Kingdom, and when the Avatar had still not sprung from his frozen cage in the South Pole. It was a nasty affair, a matter that caused the school to spiral into a fit of despair and chaos.

If I had to put what I felt happened in a vocabulary suitable for papers I now have to submit to my professors, I'd have to say it was a systemic breakdown of the school's long standing curriculum and structural integrity due to a breach of regulation that resulted in the institution's youth being thrown into a sea of reality that had been covered by a blanket of conspiracy. The actor of such a calamity was the very institutional malfunctioning instrument, or cog in the wheel if one wants to go that far, that the school had tried so hard to avoid.

But because of a perhaps more well-rounded audience, I should just say that after looking back, I had the best teacher that I've ever known for a single day.

So for the sake of protecting all those associated with it, especially the teacher responsible for such a catastrophe, I have taken the liberty of naming our hero Sifu Hotman.

It must have been a little over a year before a mysterious boy named Kuzon appeared on our campus. Like many facilities across the Fire Nation at that time, our school had received little funding from the treasure houses of the Fire Nation royalty. We were short on supplies, books, and most of all, a competent teaching staff. Sure we had the grumpy lady Ms. Kwan and the music instructor Mr. Yin Yue, or at least that's what he called himself, but many of our classes were overflowing with students waiting to be taught and not enough teachers to teach.

So imagine our surprise when Ms. Kwan announced a temporary leave of absence for the one reason that we never thought she'd ever be able to take a leave of absence for. As she headed out of the door, a smile on her face at her slightly protruding stomach, Ms. Kwan introduced a new man into the room. This new man stumbled into the room, immediately tripped over the doorstep, and fell on his face. Papers were flying, his glasses broke, and the class bit back their lips in quelled laughter.

"Children, this is _" Ms. Kwan introduced.

Now one may notice that I have censored the man's name. I did this because while we students may have called him Sifu Hotman, the mere thought of a middle aged woman using such a term in any serious dialogue is outright ridiculous. So I saved one the trouble of having to listen to such awkward talk. Ms. Kwan then continued on with the usual rhetoric.

"He will be your substitute teacher for the coming months as I take my leave," Ms. Kwan explained. "I expect you all to be on your best behavior. This is _'s first time teaching, but he has met all the necessary requirements."

Our teacher promptly left the room, her usual stern demeanor gone, and all of us children suddenly realized that if we could find some way to make Ms. Kwan feel that way every year, we might never have to deal with her intolerable pop quizzes again. Years later, when we finally realized what it must have took to make that happen over and over again, we might have promptly, as Sifu Hotman might say it now, metaphorically vomited over a metaphorical desk.

The man took to the front podium, where he rearranged his fallen papers and placed his broken glasses on the wooden frame before pulling a replacement from his pockets. At this point, I might have included several descriptions of our dear Sifu Hotman, since his attire was indeed unusual. But since a full description of his abnormal dress might give away his identity, perhaps it might be better to just to say that he wore clothes.

However, please do not think of me as lazy, for what purpose does describing Sifu Hotman's clothes entail? Does it give us a symbolic representation of his teaching style, his casual attire juxtaposed with a sincere attitude and caring mind for students? Would it perhaps convince you, like many other girls at our school, to fall in love with his loose and cool style? Can it perhaps even throw a social stigma upon our beloved Sifu Hotman, who may be cast as an indolent good-for-nothing that enjoys a nice salary without ever teaching students?

No. I believe any discussion of clothes in regards to Sifu Hotman is self-destructive and at least should be avoided.

"As Ms. Kwan said," the man's hands fumbled around with the materials in his hand, his nimble looking fingers clearly shaking. "I am _, and I hope we can have a good time as a class. I guess we should start with the next literature lesson that Ms. Kwan had intended on teaching. Please take out your textbooks and turn to page forty five."

_Fire River_ was the name of the piece. Sifu Hotman called on someone to read aloud, and after thirty seconds of silence, I tentatively raised my hand, much to the relief of our already nervous substitute.

The story seemed simple enough. A single ship, loaded with fresh new recruits, was sent down a river, hailed as soon-to-be-heroes of a just war. Even the Fire Lord attended, setting off a fire display with his imperial Firebenders that turned the color of the water a fiery red.

"So…" Sifu Hotman fidgeted with his thumbs as he eyed the class. "Does anyone want to help me describe what this story is about? Does anyone know where it's from?"

"It says here in the margins," said a student, who I quickly identified and once again decided to censor for the safety of the student. For now he shall remain a body with a dark oval around his face with the words 'smart aleck' written in golden letters in the oval. "That the story is about-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Sifu Hotman raised his hands, and his eyes suddenly burned with quite an intensity. "Forget the margins. What do _you_ think this story is about?"

"It's about what the margins tell it's about," said the smart aleck.

"Does anyone think that this story is exactly what the margins say it is," Sifu Hotman rubbed his forehead as he watched as almost two dozen hands shot into the air, including my own. "Okay, okay, so what does the margin say…you?"

The teacher pointed at another student in the class, yet another body with a dark ovular shaped object hanging over the person's face, with the word 'quiet school girl' inscribed with yellow characters.

"It's about a group of soldiers that are going off to the fight the evil Earth Kingdom," said the quiet school girl. "It says that they later all became some of the most celebrated war heroes in all of the Fire Nation."

Then, our teacher, Sifu Hotman, did something Ms. Kwan would never do in front of us and probably would never do as long as she lived. He laughed. I question that laugh every time I think about it. Perhaps it was a reminiscent laugh, one that might have suggested a personal connection with the men in _Fire River_.

"Let me ask a simple question," said Sifu Hotman when the tears of mirth, or maybe sadness, had stopped flowing down his face. He held up the book. "Why do you trust this book so much?"

"Because if we didn't we'd have to listen to you," said a grumpy looking boy in the back, and I say grumpy not because his face was grumpy, but because the symbols that read 'grumpy athlete' was sprawled over his dark circular pseudo-face.

The class laughed at the sarcastic quip, but Sifu Hotman's tentative and reluctant pose seemed to slowly wither away at the comment. From the ashes, and I mean literal ashes because the book in front of Sifu Hotman began smelling faintly of burning paper, was a teacher who seemed determined to give us a lesson we would never forget.

"Has anyone here ever thought about whether or not the books speak the real truth?" Sifu Hotman tore the first page out of its bindings, much to the shock of the quiet school girl, who looked like she had turned ghastly pale and had died. The page started to burn at the edges. "Like, on this page, why does it just say that Ozai is Firelord, but nothing is said about the older brother in line with the throne, Iroh?"

"What about _Fire River_," Sifu Hotman pointed at the books. "Does anyone not know that the piece is about a group of soldiers sent by Ozai to serve as a diversion, to betray them in the hopes of winning a victory against the Earth Kingdom? Is this the glory you students are being told about?"

"Or even this!" Sifu Hotman turned to another random book, and tore a piece from an essay. "Why does every poet here mention Fire Nation somewhere in their work? Are all scholars Fire Nation?"

"The Earth Kingdom is filled with savages!" yelled a boy in the back with a face scrawled with 'aggressive dimwit'. The rest of the class seemed to nod in agreement.

"Oh savages," the teacher fired back. "What a baggage to meet with a savage. But what is a meeting with a savage other than a rite of passage? For everyone knows that a savage is simply one who cannot manage, an intelligent being with the illusion of stupidity. Smartly salvage, and the baggage known as the savage would no longer ravage, a more beautiful rite of passage than any other."

"What kind of a poem is that?" the aggressive dimwit seemed to want to open his mouth again. "Our teacher always said that all of the poems in history tell great stories of the Fire Nation."

"Okay I'm bad at writing poems," the teacher waved dismissively. "But if I were to name this poem, I'd name it _Student_."

Nobody seemed to understand any of what was flowing from the teacher's mouth. Part of it was perhaps people were trying to figure out what a "master of peace" was. But the most important part was because the stench of burnt books now could be felt from each of our desks. And the reason was because all our books spontaneously caught fire.

Of course, everyone reacted in some way or another. The quiet school girl, who was still ghastly pale after seeing her books caught on fire, seemed to faint the second she woke up.

The smart aleck decided to talk to the fire, as if talking to a fire would help calm it down.

The grumpy athlete decided to collect as many books as he could and fling them all in the corner of the room, isolating the problem. He was congratulated for his actions for at least three seconds, before the fire started spreading right back towards the center of the classroom.

Of course, the aggressive dimwit decided to Firebend, because nothing says "great opportunity" like a bunch of books on fire in a wooden classroom. The fire spread quicker of course, and the dimwit, if he still managed to survive to today, is probably still asking why.

Soon, the staff of the school rushed into the building and proceeded to immediately dump water on Sifu Hotman before realizing that it was the books on fire.

As faculty became preoccupied with the growing flames, a fainted school girl, a Firebending dimwit, a rambling smart aleck, and a still grumpy athlete, we noticed in the corner of our eye that Sifu Hotman ran from the room, the biggest smile on his face.

And amidst the burning classroom, it must have been fate that the two of us met glances just once. And for the strangest of reasons, I smiled and waved.

Sifu Hotman seemed content with it, because I never saw him again after he passed through the doorway.

I've heard some stories of what happened to our hero Sifu Hotman after he left. It's said that he went around from school to school, burning the same books over and over again until the schools figured out that they needed to stop him from entering the campus. Why he was never formally arrested and convicted with treason is beyond my comprehension, but it is perhaps safe to say that Sifu Hotman was not necessarily the clumsy schoolteacher that many thought him out to be.

Still, none of that truly matters much in the grand scheme of things. I resumed my peaceful grade school life until the school's end. Ms. Kwan returned, and as we soon learned, it was merely a matter of weight gain that had falsely excited Ms. Kwan, which is unfortunate because her false excitement was replaced by a renewed ferocity of which we had never seen before.

Regardless, nothing truly out of the ordinary happened, and even Kuzon's abnormalities paled in comparison to the burning scent of Sifu Hotman's books.

If I had to say whether I, at the time, had learned anything truly valuable, my answer would have to be no. It was merely an experience with an out of the ordinary teacher who taught us a little something more about book burning. Perhaps his strategy was wrong, perhaps he could have tried new ways of getting to us, but maybe it was because there was an inherent curriculum barricade that kept him from ever being able to reach us.

So does my tale really mean anything? It should, but maybe my readers are a bunch of aggressive dimwits. In that case, does Sifu Hotman expose that everyone working and reading in Fire Nation schools, including myself, were a bunch of brain dead Fire Nation socialized zombies who were never taught the beauty of intellectual freedom, both for a teacher and for his students? I'll leave that to the reader to decide.

But the answer is yes.


	5. The Sky Tower

**A/N: **I wrote this for a contest over at the ASN DrabbleDrabbleDrabble thread. The theme was "Happily Ever After" and asked that we write about an urban legend/fairy tale/legend that could be passed from generation to generation. I tried a more futuristic approach to it. Or is the past? The present? **  
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**Summary: **It was a retroactive process, a repetitious cycle that always returned to the beginning. It started with a burst of fire, a cleansing that scared humanity into one final stronghold. Here, in this tower of origins, mankind spends its last days in a nostalgic state of consciousness, wondering what had gone wrong. No one even thinks of bending.

**Genre:** Supernatural/Sci Fi

**Character(s)**: OC x Wan Shi Tong

* * *

><p><strong>The Sky Tower<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Bending is the greatest weapon of arrogance. With a single swipe you can tame the seas and level mountains. Fire bows in your presence and the air around you is the purest of all fragrances. Who can resist allowing such a power get to one's head? And with water came ice and blood, with fire came magma and lightning. The earth was crushed into fragments and air moved at unobservable speeds. Where is the breaking point when mankind learns to stop?<em>

"Water too?"

"That's what they say."

"And earth?"

"Of course."

The child furrowed his brow, his features exposed by a vivid green light that blinked on and off in the small cozy room. He laid on the bed, his three blankets draped over him. His mother, dressed in a white coat, smiled at him as she brushed his sweaty forehead. The three blankets might have been a bit of an overreaction, but the blinking green light behind her was telling her that it would soon fade. And when it did, many other things would too.

"I don't get it. It doesn't make sense," the child puffed his cheeks. He looked at the metal doors at the far end of the room. "Why isn't dad back? Is he adding another layer to the tower today?"

"No, he's with the excavation team today," his mother sighed, shaking her head. "But it'll be a miracle if they find anything of use down there. They never bring anything back these days anymore."

"Have you seen what's down there?" he said, rubbing his eyes. He refused to get tired. These stories were always too good to be ignored. "Mom?"

"I have a few pictures, if that's what you wanted to see," she stood up and reached for a binder in a bookshelf not too far from the bed. It took only a moment for the child to realize his mother wasn't answering his question. "That's right, I haven't shown you these before have I? Not many of these exist anymore. Pictures before The Burst."

The lights flickered on and off more rapidly than before. A volatile shaking caused both mother and son to freeze, but within seconds it was gone. They had long gotten used to this, the disorientation of their home. A single error in calculations was the difference between life and a great plunge. Their frightful panic was no more than a natural reaction now, and they would chuckle awkwardly when they resumed their conversation.

The mother opened the book and angled the pages so the dying green light would cast its brightest glares over the pictures. The first picture was of a city, hugging against a crescent bay shaped inward. It was night time as far as the child could see but the city was still lit with life. A tiny island sat to the eastern side of the metropolis.

"They had places like this too," the child was in awe as he rubbed the photo, as if to get a feeling for the texture of the city. "These are mountains, I learned about those. Mom, what are those shining dots? I've never seen them before when we're allowed to look in the observatory decks."

"Those are stars," the mother's voice was strained, as if in pain. She recovered moments later. "They're hiding right now. We may be able to see them someday when your dad climbs a little bit further."

"Pretty," the child whispered, his eyes drooping a little bit. "Dad should be adding more layers then, not trying to reach the bottom. I'd like to see this someday."

"I'll tell him sometime," the mother flipped to the next page. A picture of a giant canyon, stretching for miles underneath a blistering sun. "This was known as the Great Division."

"But every time in class," the child pursed his lips. "They say it's a flattened landscape down there. How can this be?"

"Ahh, but what they didn't tell you," said the mother, flipping to the next page, a picture of a green garden and a wooden home sitting behind it. "Is that the world used to be much different, before The Burst, and before the Sky Tower. A world of unimaginable color, where night and day was not separated by clocks but by a giant ball of fire in the sky."

"Are you making this up?" the child buried himself deeper into the covers. "Because I've seen the pictures mom. There's no sea to bend, and there's no earth to move. Are you sure yours aren't just some painting?"

"They aren't, dear, I assure you," the mother was tired now of this conversation. She merely patted the boy's head and stood up. "Perhaps I shall show you these pictures again when you are older. Maybe you'll find some meaning in them then, as I still do."

The child didn't hear her. He was already asleep, his skepticism the most tiring part of his day. Or night.

The mother stood up and left the room. As she did, the green light died before she could flip the switch to turn it off. It appears the three sheets were going to be a wise precaution.

"The power generators won't hold out for much longer," she whispered. "Those solar panels need to go higher this time. We'll have to push the schedule up. How much farther can we go really?"

There was an elevator at the end of the hall, two triangles pointed up and down. Her fingers hovered over the keys for a moment, a period of nostalgia maybe, before she pushed the arrow pointing skyward. There was a short groan of an engine and a few seconds later, the two metals doors slid open. Her hand punched the largest number on a pad to the right of the elevator, and the door closed, and the hum of the machine and a slight dizziness followed. Her ears hurt.

"There used to be a time," she recited. Words she heard, and now words she gave to her son. "When people knew how to bend the natural elements of the world."

_Natural_, her son had said. _What's that mean? Like metal?_

"Air, earth, fire, and water," she corrected. "Elements that we know only in books and in pictures captured before The Burst. The great unwinding of this world, where all of mankind's arrogance gave way to the power of a spirit beyond our comprehension."

"It happened," she said. "As a culmination of all of man's greatest achievements and mistakes. Mountains were cleared for the development of even taller skyscrapers, the ocean pillaged once people realized that bending it to its will was a gateway to cities of gold. Fire became life to the smallest of creatures, except these were made of unbendable metals and circuits. The ground was dug up for those exact same treasures, the earth raped of its children."

"The Burst," she continued, once the elevator door opened. Up ahead were security doors with built in hand identification scanners. She waved her hands over them. Clearance was granted. "The religious radicals called it the cleansing of the impure, the heavenly fire that would rid of a world spiraling out of control. To everyone else, it was when the words of the Fire Sages finally came true."

"The world ended in fire that day."

The barred doors swung open, and up ahead was another door, this time with a highly sensitive retinal scan. It was designed so that it could detect when an eye had been brutally ripped from its socket. A fine security device.

"All over the world, tendrils of fire sprung from the ground," she shivered at the thought, remembering the words naturally as they flowed through her like it had been embedded in her for generations. "The first to go were the earthbenders, consumed in their never ending greed, choosing to perish in their underground cities. Their technological masterpieces melted away with them."

The door slid open once she pressed her iris to the machine. A voice in the room greeted her. "Good evening, doctor." There were a few other words that it said, something about unstable gas levels near the bottom of the tower, but she ignored it. Contamination breaches were common. It only meant climbing higher.

"The oceans rebelled next," she sighed, cracking her knuckles as a few flickering white lights revealed a few nozzles in a room unfit for the claustrophobic. A rack was next to her. She began to strip. "Storms brewed night and day, wrecking ships. When the masters of the sea came to subdue the waters, beasts from the depths arose, and the masters were lost. The poles melted when the holy fires erupted beneath them, and the tribes that lived there evaporated along with their favorite drinks."

"Tornadoes of all shape and sizes," the water began to run. It was very cold. The generators were definitely running out of power. "Tore apart cities, battered sky bison to the ground, and even the rebuilt Air Temples stood no chance against a relentless onslaught of brutal whirlwinds. No one could escape to the mountains. Of course, most of them were gone already."

Once the shower was over, a warm feeling fell over her. The room blew a gust of hot air through the room and she used a nearby towel to dry herself. Afterwards she put her clothes back on, and into the next room. There was no reason for that shower. She had asked that it be taken out many times, but most people wanted to feel a bit cleaner before they headed into the next room.

"The magma that sprung from the depths of the earth," it was reaching the climax now. She knew. She had heard it so many times already. "Washed over the ground, producing a surface that looked like glass. Dark obsidian. There was no escape, as not even Roku could handle the fires that blew from a single mountain. Think of the fires that lesser beings fought against thousands of geysers, blowing deadly toxins and unbearable heat from their depths."

The room she entered, like all the others, was dark. It was shaped like an amphitheater, the edges of the rooms walled off by slates of hardened metal. There was a switch on the opposite end of the door. She walked towards it.

"The survivors grouped, knowing that their end was near," she whispered. "With the world collapsing upon them, they took to the skies, and never looked back. And like all legends, they become legends within legends."

She flipped the switch.

The metal doors peeled back, revealing a window that gazed back at the world.

Or at least what was left of it.

From here it was almost impossible to see the surface. A mixture of poisonous gas and toxic clouds obscured the ground, but even had she seen it, she would only see a glass world, heated and cooled by an unending flow of lava. The skies were lit with lightning, striking down at rods that powered the lights in the other rooms. The sun was obscured and even as the window opened, the room was barely lit enough to allow her to see the colors of her white coat and pink stitches that she had used to sow it all back together.

Those clouds hid what used to be day and what used to be night. No star could shine through a relentless torrent of dark and distorted clouds. They brushed past her, fogging up the window. There were no birds in the sky, of course.

"Sky Tower," she breathed. It always surprised her. This sight. "The last modicum of human ingenuity. A pillar that rises never ending towards a limited sky, impervious to the magma that washes at it below, and undeterred by the winds that smash daily against it. A final stand by humanity. We gave up everything, even our bending, for what little filtered air and water we have left."

"With no earth to bend, we forgot how to move even the smallest pebbles," the words that had been passed down to her always felt the most real when they were echoed in this room. "The air grew stale, refusing to respond and instead stayed still. Water was not for bending, but for rationing. And even fire became a hazard, and that was forgotten as well."

There was a sudden thought that occurred to her, that perhaps mankind's segregation from the natural was the ultimate intension of its creators, that it was done precisely as a degenerative method of returning mankind to its roots, a return to origins. The theory quickly was dispatched. Even if it was true, it wouldn't really help now. The only solution was to climb.

"Bending is the greatest weapon of arrogance," she recited. "With a single swipe you can tame the seas and level mountains. Fire bows in your presence and the air around you is the purest of all fragrances. Who can resist allowing such a power get to one's head? And with water came ice and blood, with fire came magma and lightning. The earth was crushed into fragments and air moved at unobservable speeds. Where is the breaking point when mankind learns to stop?"

"Well that answer is simple," she chuckled. It was a bitter kind of laugh, a wish for the old days, where her photos were her memories, and where these words she recited never existed, replaced by the soft lullabies of the person who first told them to her.

"When we've touched the sky. And when there is nothing else for us to climb."

In only a few years, the remnants of the tower crumbled, its precious metals finally withered from the torrents of erosion that peppered it eternally. All creation emerged from the heat of the smoldering planet, lead by a wise owl that settled at the top of the tower. With a swing of his wings, the tower turned to a material of the earth, its metal rooms turned to study halls, its corpses turned to foxes.

It became an anthology of old and new, an index unconstrained by the boundaries of time, chronicling the failures of a social experiment that seemed to always end with a Sky Tower.

"When will mankind learn?" said the owl, with an almost humored tone in his breath.

All together now, they began anew. This time, they would add something else to their creation. They hoped it would work this time.


	6. The Avatar and the Fire Lord

**A/N: **A quick idea I had for a contest. The theme was "And now for something totally different..."**  
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**Summary: **In a world where Chin the Conqueror triumphs over Avatar Kyoshi, Roku and Sozin have a familiar but different conversation...

**Genre:** AU

**Character(s)**: Roku/Sozin

* * *

><p>"It's not traditional, but go ahead."<p>

Ta Min looked back reluctantly at her newly wed as he was led around the garden to a patio overlooking the eastern seaboard of the Fire Nation. The Fire Lord had been acting on edge ever since Roku had returned. She had caught him staring at the Avatar with caution. There was fear in Sozin's eyes, and Ta Min could not figure out why he would be scared of his best friend.

When the two of them were out of sight and hearing range, Sozin let out a huge sigh, gripped the metal fence on the edge of the porch. The sun was setting behind them, shedding its last glimpses of orange over the sea. Old trade ships made from wood, most having been decommissioned for years lied still on the waterfront. A few guards rowed their patrol boats, making sure no one tried to steal one of the merchant ships.

Not everyone could have an ironclad warship like the Earth Kingdom did, let alone the thousands of coal mines popping up all over the country. You stuck a shovel in the dirt, you find coal, and suddenly you're a rich man. Sozin shook his head at the thought of even the smallest fishing boats over there being equipped with miniature steam powered propellers.

Then he turned to Roku. The Avatar cocked his head slightly, his gaze confused while Sozin's eyes looked him up and down.

"What's wrong, Sozin?" Roku asked. "It's not like you to interrupt a ceremony like this. Is there something you need of me?"

"Just, a little bit of paranoia, that's all," the Fire Lord said. "Everyone in the Fire Nation has been awaiting your return as a fully realized Avatar. I'm, of course, also glad that you've come back to us, but that doesn't mean I can feel safe just yet. For one, I don't know what your Earth Kingdom teacher has been teaching you about us..."

"Oh come on, Sozin," Roku scoffed, realizing where this was going. "He was my Earthbending teacher, not my political science professor. If I really wanted to hear the kingdom's justification for imperialism, I would've gone to Ba Sing Se and not the countryside. I went to see what I could do to help people while I learned their ways of bending. You know this better than anyone."

"I know, I know," Sozin nodded his head, not completely satisfied just yet. "But just living in the Earth Kingdom. I can't be sure that you will be reliable if the Earth Kingdom comes to 'spread the wealth.' Every since the Chin unified the rest of the Kingdom, their rate of industrialization has been enormous. So much that they cut trade to focus on domestic production. It's a wonder what millions of people can do when put to a single task, but it is scary when they mean to impose that will on others. What do you think will happen if the people you helped joined arms against us? Would you be able to protect us all the same?"

"Old friend, I'm an ally of the Fire Nation and her interests. I always will be," Roku reassured, putting a hand on Sozin's shoulders. His neck was stiff. "But an Avatar's duty is to the world, and not just to his or her country of birth. If war were to come upon us, I will be resolving this for the betterment of the world, and not just for you."

"But think! What can we do without you, Roku?" Sozin pleaded. He tightened his hand on the grip and gestured to the sea. "Look out there Roku. Look at the sea, and see what my tiny fleets can do against the might of the Earth Kingdom's ironclads. What about my land, Roku? Without the farmers from the Earth Kingdom, we have little land that isn't mountainous for us to cultivate. We're reliant on what few fisheries we have, and our over consumption is causing my people to starve."

"Together," Sozin stared into Roku with near crazed eyes. "You and I. We can do anything with your combined power. We can push back the Earth Kingdom from our shores. We can make this Nation safer and better. More prosperous. Just the two of us."

"You're asking too much of me, Sozin," Roku glared at his old friend to make sure he understood the severity of such a provocation. "You ask that I turn my back on the world so that you may suit your interests on the throne?"

"I suggested no such thing," Sozin almost roared, before realizing there were still guests to entertain. "I merely suggested that my people are not faring so well, and while you may bear sympathies at how Chin's sons have treated the people of the Earth Kingdom, you must remember that we should come first before they, who brought this upon themselves, do."

"Enough of this!" Roku waved a hand to end the conversation. "I will not give up on the people of the Earth Kingdom. They live under the rule of tyrants, something I can safely say does not happen here, because of you, friend. I know your concerns, but it is not my job to redistribute the resources of the world to those I am closest to. I will protect and help those in the Fire Nation and I will help those in the Earth Kingdom, and the Water Tribes, and the Nomads all the same. Now, let me hear no more foolish talk."

"What's wrong with asking for the Avatar to play favorites?" Sozin held out his arms in desperation. "Roku, even you should know the threat the Earth Kingdom poses to us. We have no way of defending ourselves other than asking you to come to our aid. The Earth Kingdom armada can descend upon us at a moment's notice, and you think it wise to side with them?"

"I'm not siding with them, nor am I siding with you," Roku shook his head. "Asking for the Avatar's hand and favor in anything is asking for a weapon to be used in war. The Avatar isn't some wartime commodity, and I would never endanger the fragile peace we still have with the Earth Kingdom. Putting me at the front of your banner will only ensure that Kingdom's wrath and willingness to go to war instead of opening the trade routes needed to help our home. Now, I tire of this conversation, and I wish to get back to my wife. May we never speak of this again."

Roku left quickly, refusing to allow Sozin another word. The Fire Lord's words were haunting even if they meant well for a nation distressed by threats from the Earth Kingdom to give up its territory.

Roku wondered for a moment what Sozin's hopes for manipulating the Avatar might have been like had the Fire Nation been more powerful, but he extinguished such an impossibility quickly.


	7. with best wishes

**Summary: **June's growing old. Her body isn't what it used to. June confronts Piandao about this, and comes up with a proposal that she thought she'd never have to make.

**Genre:** Drama/Friendship

**Character(s)**: June/Piandao/Nyla

* * *

><p><strong>with best wishes<strong>

* * *

><p>Apparently shirshu lived for a <em>long<em> time.

"You didn't know?" said Piandao when Jun asked him about it on an unexpected visit. For old times sake. Really old times. "The venom on a shirshu's tongue is said to be used in helping preserve the longevity of its organs. It may feel like poison to us, but to a shirshu's body, it might as well be called an everlasting elixir until it runs out."

Ew.

"Why ask me this all of a sudden?" the swords master cocked his head sideways to see Nyla sitting comfortably outside the tea shop. Piandao hated to admit it, but it was one of the first times the animal looked _bored_. Like he hadn't done something in weeks. Months even. "Is there something wrong with him? Have you been feeding him those monkey thorn berries I told you about? I know they're hard to find but-"

"There's nothing wrong with Nyla," June tapped her fingers heavily on the table. Her mouth was shut tight, and Piandao could tell June was clenching her teeth behind her lips. He also noticed her right arm quivering a little, one of her legs just a little bit _too_ relaxed. After a while, she looked back at Nyla, and then back at Piandao, and then she put a hand on her cheek and took a sip of tea. "I'm thinking of passing him on."

"Oh?" Piandao raised an eyebrow, but he showed no other signs of surprise. "Have you decided on where you might send him?"

"I'm not sure," June sighed, turned back again to look at Nyla. "But I think it'd be unfair if I keep him holed up around here with me. He doesn't look like he's ready to give up the adventure yet. But..."

"Please, don't say it," Piandao waved a hand in June's face. "You're going to make me feel older than I already am."

"Well," June patted her leg and allowed her right arm to fall limply on the table. "When you're riding a beast like Nyla almost every day for almost forty years, things tend to happen to you."

"Have you seen a doctor?" he already knew the answer before he asked.

"The best in the world," June sighed, leaning back in her chair. She thought about lifting her feet and slamming her boots on the table like old times, but decided against it. "She said there was nothing she could do. Whatever happened to me, it's permanent. Might have been one too many licks."

"June," Piandao started.

"Don't start," June glared. "Look, I know I'm a mess, but this isn't time to get all sympathetic on me. I asked you to come here because I wanted to find some place for him to go. Maybe you board game fanatics know someone? I'd pass him on to family, but...you know. I want someone who can take him on an adventure. One where he'll forget about me."

"I think that's asking for a bit much," Piandao rubbed his chin, but it didn't take long for him to think of a solution. "You know, now that you mention it, there was an academic paper written by one of us quite a while ago, talking about shirshu migration patterns. Maybe, if you truly want to let him go, it's best to send him back into the wild to find a mate."

"My Nyla is _not_ touching another woman," for a moment there, Piandao saw a flare of the old June, but it vanished quickly. She paused for a moment, and then said. "How long do you think it'll take you?"

"On my eel hound?" Piandao calculated. "Just two weeks would be enough."

June nodded, turned once more back to Nyla, and then stood up.

Her left leg was nearly completely limp, muscles worn and torn beyond disrepair from years of ferocious riding. She slid that leg across the floor, and used a cane, which Piandao saw was fashioned with her whip grip at the head. She was holding it with her left hand, because her right arm was shaking too uncontrollably for her to use it correctly.

From her back, June's shoulders were no longer standing tall and proud, but were instead scrunched over. Her raven dark hair seemed like the last vestige of her youth, but Piandao could smell the faint smell of a very particular form of Earth Kingdom dye.

"Don't even think about helping me," June said, her back facing Piandao.

She approached the shirshu and dropped her cane to rub his nose. He wagged his tail eagerly at the touch, and stuck his back out and lowered his head as to allow June on. But the blind animal couldn't see June slowly shaking her head at him, and after a few seconds of waiting for his master, he made a pleading whine to her.

"Oh snuffly wuffly," June's voice cracked a little. "Don't worry. In a few weeks, you won't need anyone on your back anymore. You'll be off free, and maybe you'll find a girl as beautiful and lovely as me. But I doubt it."

Piandao didn't see June cry that day, or even the day when he came back and told her where she could find shirshu that Nyla could mingle with. It was only half a days journey away. She only nodded and tapped Nyla to follow her, their last journey together. Even Nyla seemed to sense that something was wrong. His steps were tentative until Piandao couldn't see him any more.

Piandao only watched June leave with Nyla and return without him. It took four days.

"Now can I help you?" Piandao suggested as she stuttered back slower than before. "I'm not that much older than you know. We old people can rely on one another. Sometimes."

June didn't look back, but it was reassuring to him when she offered him her arm.


End file.
